So Like A Rose
by LastDayOfMagic
Summary: I wish you could stay here. - Very depressing one-shot, anticipated post S6.


This was a place Elijah had hoped never to find himself.

Damon and Stefan stood outside at the top of the steps, each to opposite sides of the cathedral's massive wooden doors. They wore dark suits, and the late afternoon sunshine was an otherworldly juxtaposition to grim nature of the day. Heaven was trying to filter through, to lighten the burdens of the hell they all suffered now. But it wasn't successful - it was too soon. He stiffened as Damon met his gaze. He waited for the elder Salvatore to say something, but instead Damon opened the door and slipped inside.

"I'll join you shortly," Rebekah reassured him, smoothing her black dress. It was her way of willing him to move, though they were both filled with dread at this occasion. He imagined she wanted a private moment with Stefan as well. It was the respectful thing to do, given their history.

Elijah nodded, and he began to climb the stairs. He stopped when he reached Stefan's perch.

"Stefan," he greeted somberly. "I'm deeply sorry."

The younger vampire nodded, his eyes faintly red-rimmed. "After all this time. None of us expected it." His voice cracked, and he looked to the ground, hands in his pockets. Elijah felt similarly affected, and he wasn't one often rendered grief-stricken. But this was too much.

"It's an utter tragedy," he said quietly, not trusting his own voice to speak more than a few words. He patted Stefan's arm and drew in a deep breath before opening the doors, to say the final goodbye to the light that should never have ceased to exist in the world.

The interior of the church was bright, light... not what he had grown accustomed to after spending time in St. Anne's in the French Quarter. And there were flowers everywhere. Spring and summer blooms, not the typical funerary arrangements. But that was fitting for the dark-haired girl who was awaiting eternal rest in the casket at the altar.

He gripped at the edge of the pew, the wind seemingly knocked out of him. As much as he'd forced himself to imagine what he would see on the journey to Mystic Falls, it still didn't prepare him for the reality. He rarely prayed, but right now his thoughts were on a continuous loop of _Why God? Why? _After everything he had done, after everything they _all _had done... and it hadn't even been a noble death, a martyred death. She hadn't saved anyone. She was a victim of cruelty at the hands of a sadistic witch, punishment against Damon and Bonnie for wrongs they had committed. They would suffer a fate worse than death - they would have to live with the fact that their newly human Elena had died because of them. And there was no way to bring her back. She would forever remain beyond their reach.

He closed his eyes, breathing in again, willing himself to go up there to pay his last respects. She deserved that much, after everything. Maybe they hadn't ever been close friends, but there was a certain kinship between them. An understanding. He thought they'd had a lifetime to run into one another, to catch up once everything else settled down. He never anticipated that the last time he'd see her was with her humanity switched off, sarcastically throwing the sincerity of his letter back in his face. But even then, she was honest with him. She'd stopped him from making the grave mistake of falling for Katerina's manipulation. Her voice worked its way into his conscience. That much he would carry with him.

He recognized Caroline, Bonnie, and Alaric sitting in the front row. The wake hadn't formally begun yet, but Elijah didn't feel comfortable with going through the proper decorum as he knew crowds would form to mourn her loss. He wanted this to be as private a moment as possible, not only so he could say goodbye to Elena, but also to come to grips with the knowledge that he would never see this face again. A face that had been with him nearly since the beginning of time.

He began the walk up the aisle, knowing that he was stalling. Normally he faced challenges resolutely, but this was nearly unbearably uncomfortable. Damon stood near her, and Elijah gave him a subtle nod once he approached.

"I'm sorry," he said, more succinctly than with his brother. He knew grief made Damon volatile, and given their mixed history he didn't want to risk igniting what was surely a short fuse. It wasn't that Elijah was at all intimidated him, but he didn't want to disrupt this homage to Elena's life. There was also the argument that could be made against the Original family - that they still held an indirect hand in her death, since Rebekah initially caused her to become a vampire. Elena was forced to take the cure to resume a human life, and they shared in the blame that vampire blood had then been useless to her in her most dire moment.

And he hadn't been present either time she died.

Those intense blue eyes studied him fiercely, narrowed but perhaps surprised that Elijah had shown his face here. And maybe there was even a sliver of grudging respect that Elijah recognized the need to honor her memory. Damon stepped aside, pulling a flask from his jacket as he walked away silently. Elijah let out a slow breath as he finally allowed himself to peer down at Elena.

Her eyes were closed, of course, her expression peaceful. She didn't look waxen or overdone - she truly only appeared to be sleeping. Her dark hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders and she wore a simple pendant around her neck. Her hands rested clasped over her stomach, and Elijah was surprised to see her lapis ring on her left hand. But the stone matched the deep blue of her gown perfectly.

Elijah clasped his hand over hers, almost a mistake, as he could feel the stiffness in her dead form. But as much as he wanted to pretend, he knew she wasn't asleep, and this was the end. He winced as he kneeled down next to her, thankful no one could see his face as tears started to stream down. She had been the most graceful, the most loyal, the strongest Petrova he had known. He imagined if he'd met her before she lost her parents and learned of the supernatural in the world, she would have possessed an infectious brightness and approached life with a free spirited nature. But instead she balanced the weight of that loss of innocence with the most remarkable compassion he had ever known. And it still left him in awe. He loathed that he'd played any role in the horror show her life had become, but he was certain he'd become a better person because their paths ever intersected. And if their lives hadn't continued so turbulently, he may have sought out her presence more, to bask in the grace that was Elena Gilbert.

He wished he'd had the opportunity to tell her all of this when she was alive. He grimaced, knowing this was a common human regret, one he often failed at himself. But he drew solace from the fact that she remembered his letter verbatim. Even with her humanity turned off, it still chipped through her wall enough to remind her of how much he respected her. At least he had told her something of how she'd affected him, even if it was only a candle in the face of the sun.

He had to tell himself she knew it all now, as he glanced heavenward at the crisscrossing arches far above.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "In a different life..."

He shook his head as he gnawed at his lip, unable to finish the sentence. He watched her again for a long moment before he leaned forward and kissed her cool forehead.

"Goodbye, Elena," he said softly.

Then he let go.


End file.
